Too Lost
by SunilaMoon
Summary: ...Enrico Maxwell... Are you to die alone here? All alone? You could never be saved, could you? You where always damned from the start. Oneshot, R&R please, 'kay thanks.


The Iscariots, The Vatican's first weapon. Punishment for the sins of man, Protectors of Catholicism. What would they call them in the years to come? Ah yes... Saints? Would the memory live that long?

Enrico Maxwell, head of Iscariot. Leader of the new crusades. Drunk with his power and blind to anything else. Was he doomed from that afternoon at the national gallery? He could only come to think such a thing. The vampire could bluff, and that was all. Without that despicable creature begging its master for the kill all it could do was talk. "I cannot let you leave here alive" that foul monster hissed.

Impossible... but no, he realized now that it kept its promise, for it was that creatures own familiars that had brought down Maxwells reign and left him to hide in that little box... Left him to stare from behind the glass and watch the madness unfold around him, madness rivaled only by his own. No escape, the city would burn eventually, with him inside. But was he not a saint already?

Well? Surely dying in this smoldering hell in order to kill vampires and heretics was an honor... Correct, my friend?

The crash, the sound of glass cracking...slowly...slowly... Spreading like spiderwebs above his head. Crackling downward to surround him.

Then the shatter, that glorious noise when it crashed down around him, sparkling in the light of the fire. That horrific sound that attracted the ghouls around him. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. No one to help, no hope left. Pure horror, sweat and blood. Clothes torn, Hair falling into his face. Eyes widening. Panic. Attempts to run, no hope to scream. No one can hear you in hell, can they, Maxwell?

How could he have ever wanted this... No, he wanted to be safe in his home, guards around him. His little followers clinging to him. Was it a sin to say he did not want to die here, he did not want to die for his cause? Was it such a sin to change his mind in those last moments?

Afterall, Who would return his corpse to rome... even then... who would mourn him? Him. A life alone. Death alone. The panic over the bayonet that turned him over to them._Anderson. Teacher. Father. God, no. Please help..._

Is there a God, Maxwell?

If anyone would mourn him, would it be his assassins... They had already betrayed him, they never cared, did they... All alone in this godforsaken place. All alone, Maxwell, to the point you feel even god has left you. So much power you possessed, Maxwell. So much pain, such desperation. You just wanted to be heard. See the blood. See it surround you... Oceans of _life_...

A sickening crunch... Another stab... Bones breaking under the pressure, blood dripping to the pavement. That light feeling in his head and the haziness settling over his eyes. Someone was approaching him...

---

Alexander... The paladin kneeled beside him, and ran a hand over his cheek.

"Ahm Sorreh, Enrico... But yeh're not alone."

The blood kept pouring in, closer and closer to that poor dying creature...That sick excuse for an Archiepiscopus...

Pain, that was the world. That was all there was, and now he knew not whether it would end, or begin again anew. Faith was his existence. The Vatican was his existence. Now he was betrayed. In the end, he felt it... God wasn't watching out for him...After all he did, everything he did, he was to die now...

Yet Anderson's rich voice sent a numbing chill down his spine. He stayed at his side, held him, whispered to him. The blood continued to drip from the skewers, but unnoticed was still more blood flowing in around them... Flowing in towards Maxwells dying form... making its way up the rods that protruded through his chest... closer and closer... Anderson never noticed. The dog killed its leader, but it was not in his plans to completely destroy him. Now was not the priests time to walk away. Now was a time for his prayers, and comfort. In those last minutes it would seem Anderson just may have proved him wrong. Enrico... To say he was not alone. What had he taught that child...? Did he not remember the Lord? He brushed a few last strands of hair from Enrico's face, letting the silver and crimson fall through the thick smoky air. Then the gleam in his eyes left. He was no longer. As was the blood... The steady droplets from Enrico's lifeless body continued to fall, but the oceans approaching him stopped suddenly, inanimate as before.

Anderson closed his eyes and shook his head, whispering one final prayer. He looked down and ran his gloved hand over Enrico's face, closing the arch-bishops eyes for the last time.

"Ah failed yeh, some'ow, Din ah? ... Somewhere 'long tha way..."

He stood and shook his head, taking one last look at the child he helped raise. The only one he couldn't save, the only one he could do nothing for... Was it his fault? Or was this boy too lost before he came? Anderson lifted up his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

The only one. Ahm so sorry, Enrico Maxwell.

---

A life cut down so soon... So young... Such power... Such a will, and a purpose... Such a drive for what he did...Yet nonetheless he did not drink, nor even notice. He showed too much weakness, to much error.

Such a shame. There was so much pain in that heart... So much darkness waiting to emerge and engulf all who wronged him and lied to him... and God... Did God save you Enrico? Like The Paladin said... You _where_ too lost before. Ah! Such a shame you couldn't join me, Such a shame you couldn't embrace the eternal life laid out before you.

No matter, there are many souls crying out tonight... Perhaps one of them will have the strength to drink in a new life.

...Still... To see such a _desperate_ and _lost_ creature not join the ranks of the nosferatus... Such a pity.

_Fin._

**((Well, well, well! Wasn't that...umm... fun. That was possibly the darkest thing I've ever written, in my opinion, infact, its waaaaay darker then my own beliefs... Anyway, I've always wanted to write about Enrico! And while I was listening to music on meh iPod...It played too songs in a row... Tourniquet(Evanescence) and Sympathy for The Devil... So I wrote this. I just pray you guys can figure out what those songs have anything to do with this fic. xD I hope you enjoyed, Review plz? ))**


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